


six whiskeys and a sundae

by Star_less



Category: Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Complete, Gen, Happy Hogan is a Good Bro, Happy Hogan is a saint, Irondad, Light-Hearted, Masturbation, Masturbation Interruptus, Minor Spoilers, One Shot, Please Don't Kill Me, Please don’t take this seriously, Silly, Sorry Not Sorry, Sort Of, Spider-Man: Far From Home (Movie), This isn’t serious, a little bit, but doesn’t take place during FFH, getting caught, happy hogan is peter’s long suffering babysitter, if you know you know, its inspired by FFH, jerking off, not graphic tho dw, really bad porn parody, sorry Star Wars
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-04
Updated: 2019-07-04
Packaged: 2020-06-09 16:16:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,506
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19479505
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Star_less/pseuds/Star_less
Summary: Movies it was then. Star Wars. Perfect. Huh. They’d spelled ‘Wars’ wrong...Peter Parker, alone in his hotel room in Berlin, watches a movie. That’s it.





	six whiskeys and a sundae

**Author's Note:**

> Okay so. This was inspired by one - ONE - throwaway line in Far From Home. I don’t spoil any of the actual movie. If you wanna read on, read on. If not, don’t. Also - read the tags damn it.

“You missed a spot. Riiiight about... there.” Tony muttered in faux thought, stretching out on his chair to soak up the beating sunlight as he watched his young protege scrub at the windows of the Avengers tower.

Peter huffed unhappily, surveying the window. He had been scrubbing for what felt like hours. His arm felt as though it might very well drop off. He wasn’t even allowed to make it fun and swing around as he washed.  
As for the windows; he had been presented with them this morning - full of scuffs, fingerprints, smears and a smattering of dust alongside the pollen - and now they were so clean that Peter swore he could see into another dimension through them. Or at least he could see his own reflection; looking miserably inside as the rest of the team prepared for their outing. “Please, Mr. Stark. I think they’re clean now.” He whined softly, shifting to face his mentor and trying to rearrange his expression into the never-failed puppy dog eyes look. “I just wanna go to the beach with the others. Get a drink. Get—“

“—a whiskey? Oh no, a _sundae_?” Tony asked pointedly, scoffing. Peter flushed a pleasing shade of red at this remark, noticeable even though the sun had cooked his cheeks to a nasty red shade already. He chose not to respond; instead he reached for the nearest waterbottle and took a few deep gulps of water in the hope Tony would let up when he saw how _overworked_ and _tired_ and _deprived_ Peter was. Especially considering his spidey DNA. It was important he could thermoregulate, and that meant running around in the sea and not doing chores in the blisteringly hot sun, right?

“Come on, Tony. Let the kid come with us. Why does he have to do chores on the hottest day of the year anyhow?” Natasha asked, passing by with a canteen of water and an inflatable pool float in the shape of a flamingo. The floatie was for Peter, in fact, and Natasha really quite hoped he would come along because there was no hope in hell that she was hopping on it.

“He is doing this,” Tony said with an edge to his voice (although judging by the pointedness in his tone Peter felt as if he was speaking to him over Nat) “because he owes me a favour. That’s all. When he is finished, he will join you.”

Peter groaned slightly as he put the sponge back into the bucket. Why did he have to tell Natasha, of all people? How embarrassing. “Mr. Stark, it really was an accident.” He murmured. He had tried to tell Mr. Stark this. Tried to tell Happy too but Happy was adamant that he had caught him, and that was that.  
At least Mr. Stark didn’t tell Ms. Romanov what exactly he had been caught doing...

Mr. Stark had got this super cool, fancy shmancy sort of hotel for Peter during the battle in Berlin. Like, television in the bathroom, icecream on tap, super-expensive room service on Stark’s bill sort of fancy shmancy. Not that Peter had had much time to explore all the hotel had to offer when Happy had first shown him to his room, mind you. Happy had thrown the suit in his face and said suit up so he could fight against Captain America and that was that. But the cool thing was that Peter got to stay in the fancy shmancy hotel even when Mr. Stark had said his part in the battle was all done — just for a night or so. Which was great because, man, every part of his body hurt and all he wanted was a bubble bath and to sleep for a week. 

“Thanks for bringing me back, Happy. That was good, right? I did good out there today. Whew. I need... I need a bubble bath. Oh! Have you seen the tv in the bathroom?! Does your room even have that?” Peter babbled breathlessly to the bodyguard escorting him as he limped through his hotel room door and immediately reached for his pajamas. 

“Yeah, kid. I think all the rooms here do. Not called fancy shmancy for nothing,” Happy sighed, looking around at the kid’s room. “Do you need anything? Room service? You need Stark’s card, remember?” 

“I’ll remember. But no thanks, Happy!” Peter clutched his pajamas tightly to his chest and skittered into the bathroom. There was a moment of silence before the sound of water lashing against porcelain punctured the air. Seconds later, a second lashing sound emerged.

Well. Happy knew when he wasn’t needed. 

Peter waited silently in the bathroom, squirming on tense feet, until the lock clicked on the main door. Only then did he shed his clothes, take a moment to examine the bruises patterning his skin like some sort of brutal camouflage with an ‘ooh’ because, hey, battle scars — and finally sink with a happy sigh into the banana scented bubbles piled high in the tub.

After Peter had given himself a Mr. Stark style bubble beard, practised his Oscars acceptance speech at least twice and scrubbed himself until he gleamed, Peter was quite bored. The battle was far from over and Mr. Stark wouldn’t be back for ages, so there was no point in looking for him. Draining the tub, Peter scrambled out of the bath, wrapped a towel around his midsection, and decided to dry off and watch television (on the massive and gleaming television screen, in the massive and pillowy bed.)   
Sprawled out on said massive and pillowy bed, that was exactly what Peter did — flicked through the channels until he found something interesting to watch; or at least something that wasn’t made to bore him to sleep.   
Or at least something interesting.   
Or in English.  
There was nothing. Huh. Movies it was then. Peter scrolled through the movies quietly, all the way to the bottom, in the hope that he could find something interesting. Just as he was about to give up and go to sleep (his eyelids were heavy anyway!) he stumbled across it. Star Wars. Perfect. They’d spelled ‘Wars’ wrong — but perhaps that was a bad translation...? They were in Germany, after all. Plus it had a thumbnail of Princess Leia from the Empire Strikes Back, which was great because Peter really liked the Empire Strikes Back. Who didn’t?

He clicked.

 _Are you over eighteen?_ , asked the screen. Which was weird, because as far as Peter knew, the Empire Strikes Back was rated twelve. Yes, Peter clicked. What the heck. Maybe the laws were different in Germany.  
 _Pay per View. Please enter Credit Card Information_ , asked the screen. Which was weird, because as far as Peter knew the movies in this hotel were free to watch. At least that was what Stark had told him.   
_Credit card... credit card... he needed Mr. Stark’s credit card!_   
Shifting about in the bed, Peter moved blankets and pillows in search of the item. Unsuccessful, his movements became more frantic. Mr. Stark was going to kill him if he had lost his credit card! He pulled the bed out, he looked in drawers, he looked in his suitcase all the while his pulse roared and as his pulse roared he swore he could hear Mr. Stark in the back of his head yelling at him like a caricatured cartoon villain, ‘Find that card, or your ass is beat, kid!’  
Collapsing back onto the bed, Peter put a hand over his heart and tried to calm himself before his heart beat so hard it fell out of his chest. He shakily grabbed his phone and texted Happy as a last resort. _‘Hi Happy. Do u have Mr.Stark’s credit card. I can’t find it in my room :-(‘_

Then, because the universe hated Peter Parker, the millisecond Peter pressed send he could feel the credit card right where Happy had forced him to keep it - pressed into the back of his phone case. Popping it out Peter sighed and began entering the number into the television, then collapsed back into the pillows and pressed ‘play’.

What happened... was definitely not Star Wars. Or perhaps it was, but the last time Peter had seen the Empire Strikes Back he was sure it didn’t involve an entirely naked Leia and an also entirely naked Luke Skywalker—who was hard—and Leia asking Luke if she could, ‘play with his lightsaber’.   
Gross. Didn’t the director know they were siblings?  
Regardless, as much as Peter tried to squeeze his eyes shut, blank it out and turn it off because oh God Happy was in the next room and the walls were thin, heat rushed to his cheeks. And other places. Quickly. Peter groaned to himself at the sensation, tried not to give into it and buck his hips, and hunted for the remote. Turn it off, turn it off, turn it—

“Pete, I can’t find the credit card anywhere, what did you want it for anywa—“  
Happy said, striding into Peter’s room. Fuck. Over the sounds of aggressive panting and moaning coming from the television and the blood pounding in his... everywhere, all over— Peter had totally blanked out the sound of Happy walking into his room. Funny, because when Happy walked into Peter’s room he really didn’t expect to find him watching shitty pay-per-view porn — Star Wars pay-per-view porn, for God’s sake— and nursing a stiffy. Quite how he had managed not to hear the exaggerated moans and exclamations emerging from the television was a mystery in itself.   
Happy stared at Peter.   
Peter stared at Happy.   
For a moment it was as if time stood still and the two were frozen in time just staring at one another — because the universe hated Peter Parker and wanted to stamp on him for good measure. “This isn’t what it looks like, this is NOT what it looks like!” Peter squeaked in a whisper when time sped up again, suddenly very aware of the heat in his cheeks (and other places) - not helped by the rising and falling moans of ecstasy coming from ‘Leia’s mouth as ‘Luke’ slammed into her, which were currently echoing around the room. He had never been happier for the fact that he had wrapped the thick hotel towel around his midriff long before Happy walked in.  
Peter’s gaze snapped back and forth between the television and Happy. “I wanted—“ he stammered hopelessly. Fuck. _Fuck!_ What could he say?! All he wanted to do was watch Star Wars, not... not this, but Happy was never going to believe him!  
“Star Wars! Star Wars and a sundae! I- I needed Mr. Stark’s credit card because I wanted a sundae!” Peter burst at last, eyes wide.

“A sundae.” Happy deadpanned, staring at the television. Christ, if that was what he was calling it... “That’s a sundae?”  
He nodded at the television. 

Peter rolled over, peeped, saw ‘Leia’s tits bouncing as ‘Luke’ thrust and she collapsed into moans— and swallowed thickly before turning away and biting back a whine at the continued stirring in his lower half. “Icecream, Happy. I wanted icecream. I clicked on this by mistake, I thought it was the real Star Wars.” He begged all in one breath, finally succeeding in turning the television off and throwing the pair into an awkward silence - but frankly an awkward silence was much better than a couple of on-the-brink-of-orgasm moans, because awkward silences didn’t make Peter’s cock twitch. 

Happy sighed and rubbed his temples. “Sundaes don’t need to go on Stark’s credit card, kiddo.”   
God, Stark didn’t pay him enough for this. Babysitting the kid was one thing — this, this was going to take at least seven whiskeys to cure — and six of those were just enough to wipe the memory. Then again, he wasn’t sure what was more embarrassing - walking in on Peter like this, or watching Peter lie and lie his way into a very deep hole. “You do know this goes on Mr. Stark’s bill, right? All $8.99 worth of jerking off? You do know the pretty lady down at front desk is going to ask him to pay for the adult movie you just watched?”

Peter baulked, bright-red face etched with pure horror. “Please, please don’t tell him.” He pleaded at long last. “Please don’t make him pay for it, I didn’t mean to, it was an accident!” 

Happy sighed. “Okay. Here’s what we’re gonna do. I’ll pay for it. Stark won’t know.”  
Stark finding out was a different story entirely, but Happy wasn’t about to relay this experience to him and he certainly wasn’t going to tell that to the kid either. “You just...” he shook his head. “No more of that, kiddo. Please. I won’t be able to watch Star Wars with a straight face ever again.”

Peter let out a tiny bubble of a chuckle and nodded in agreement, his cheeks dwindling in colour at long last. Happy left at that point with a pointed, ‘I’ll give you some quiet,’ and Peter quite happily sunk into the quiet, cheeks burning. Slowly he got dressed into his pajamas, thankful that his once-stirring cock had calmed down. Then again... Happy was going to leave him alone...

Peter grabbed his phone, loaded up one of the dirty videos he kept bookmarked, and slowly reached into his pajama bottoms. It didn’t take long—especially when he had barely touched himself to the pay-per-view porn—for him to get hard again, and slowly he stroked himself, choked little whimpers coming from his mouth as the stirring grew intense and brought him closer with each stroke and moan from the pretty girl in the video and—

—and then there was a knock at the door. Peter’s breath caught in his throat as he ripped his hands away from his nether region with a grunt of annoyance, feeling the rolling wave building in his cock die out. Again.   
He waddled to the door with a tent in his bottoms and hesitantly peeped through the crack. Huh. No Happy. Peter hesitated again. Might be Mr. Stark. Except probably not. Hesitantly, Peter opened the door. 

There, on the floor of the hallway just in front of Peter’s door, was an icecream sundae. A pretty spectacular icecream sundae. Chocolate cookie dough flavour - two scoops, with an extra scoop of vanilla. Extra chocolate sauce. Sprinkles, strawberry chunks, and a star shaped wafer. Attached was one of Stark’s business cards. _“$4. PS I had to sink six whiskeys because of you. $8. That’s on you not me. You drank. You are in so much trouble, Peter. Have fun explaining that to Stark. :-) - Happy Hogan”_

Icecream. Huh. Maybe this wasn’t so bad after all. Sure, Stark was going to chew him out for drinking... but Peter would much rather that, than the reality.   
Peter picked up the sundae with one hand, the other thrust down his pajama pants once more. 

Hey, by the time he was all finished up his sundae wouldn’t be tooooo melted...

**Author's Note:**

> I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I’m sorry for the shitty porn parody (yes I know they’re siblings) I’m sorry for this (yes I feel like I’ve committed a sin) I’m sorry for the bad masturbation (ma’am I’m gay, dicks ain’t my thing) but I heard that line and cracked up. I mean, I think I got it wrong - it was that Peter was a cheeky fucker and watched porn on the sly, right? And used stark’s card to pay? Yeah. Well. I thought he got caught. And honestly, I like the accidental angle because none of you are taking my innocent child away. (She says, having literally just written about him jerking off /sob)
> 
> WHY DID HE WATCH PAY PER VIEW THO like that’s so out of touch NO ONE watches pay per view ffs Peter just load pornhub damn it


End file.
